The Road Not Taken
by OpportuneMoment
Summary: Buffy's sudden pregnancy causes confusion in the group, and much jealousy for Angel. She's not telling how it happened, but the fate of the world may rely on her secret! .... Set in July 2000, after the end of Season Four of Buffy.
1. No Questions Asked

**The Road Not Taken**

**Part One : No Questions Asked**

Giles stared, open-mouthed. All the ancient lore at his disposal, all his long years of experience in all things supernatural, even the four tension-fraught years he'd been practically a father to Buffy could never have prepared him to face this exceptional circumstance.

"Giles, did you hear me?" Buffy prompted at his lack of response. "I said, 'I'm pregnant'."

The Slayer sat in a comfy sofa opposite him, arms folded as if in readiness to argue. The torrent of questions and accusations of irresponsibility she doubtless expected from her Watcher did not even frame themselves in Giles' mind.

This was unprecedented. Vampire Slayers, as a rule, did not usually survive past their twenties, never mind settle down with families and raise children!

"Do you think he's had a stroke?" Willow's voice held a note of concern as she left Buffy's side to wave a hand experimentally in front of Giles' eyes. It did the trick.

"Erm, well then…" Giles took off his glasses with one hand as the other smoothly whipped out the little cloth which was as much a security blanket as a vision accessory. As he frowned and polished, he stood and went to his little kitchenette where a bottle of twelve year-old scotch stood ready.

He swiftly poured and drank, then refilled his glass and with a deep breath turned to face his young charge. Willow sat beside Buffy, obviously already aware of the situation and here for moral support. Buffy sat up a little straighter and held up a hand to stay the expected interrogation.

"Look, before you go all Spanish Inquisition on me, I just wanted you to know that… well that I _am_, not how or by who, okay?" Giles confusion redoubled. At his baffled expression she continued hastily, "It's a secret, an important one. Safety-of-the-world-important, get it?"

Giles was truly stumped by that. Of course he wanted answers to all those most fundamental questions, but since Buffy's intuitions about impending doom usually proved correct, his interest was even more piqued by this cryptic claim.

"I didn't realise the world was in immediate danger. Any more than normal, that is."

"Well it is, just trust me on that, okay." She stood to go but was stopped by Giles' raised hand.

"Erm, do you mind? I apologise if I seem a little disorganised but I'd prefer it if you would stay and talk about this!"

"And that's exactly why I've gotta go! I can't answer your questions yet!" Buffy's tone was firm, but she softened, "Giles, just… do what you do best: hit the books."

"The books?"

"Yeah. You're looking for a demon named… oh, crap, what was it? Begins with an 'A'… Never mind the name, but he's a major league player, and on his way here to paint the town red. Not sure about the date though, so look for signs, omens, that kinda stuff."

"And you know all this because…?" Giles prompted.

"Slayer-sense. Again, you gotta--"

"Trust you. Right then."

Buffy left with Willow trailing behind, noticing out of the corner of her eye how Giles reached for the scotch again.

"He should go easy on that stuff," she remarked to Willow, "What good's an alcoholic Watcher?"

"Well you've kinda dropped a bomb on him, and, um, on all of us really," Willow mumbled, "You gotta admit it's a pretty big thing to take on faith."

"Faith! That's it!" Buffy's eyes lit up in triumph as she grabbed her cell-phone.

Willow's expression grew even more baffled.

"Listen I've gotta set up some stuff. Come round my place later?"

Willow huffed her resignation softly. "Sure."

"And bring Xander!" Buffy called after Willow's retreating form. She watched her best friend walk off down the street, wishing there were a better way to handle this. Willow had been an absolute rock since yesterday morning when she learned of Buffy's extraordinary situation. She had promised to ask no questions and kept to it, even going so far as to firmly deflect the many flustered pleas for information that Xander had thrust at her. She knew it was going to be hard on them, but she knew that their reactions to what was about to happen must be genuine, unplanned. She'd seen _Back to the Future_ enough times to grasp that.

Absorbed in her thoughts, she was almost at her front door before she realised something was amiss. The door was very slightly ajar. The kitchen light was on. Pulling a stake from her jacket, she entered the house in silence, stalking through to the kitchen focused and ready to fight.

"And what's with these curtains? Who has puppy dogs on their drapes, besides an eight year old?"

_I know that voice…_ thought Buffy. "Cordelia?!"

Cordy let out a small scream which immediately launched into a rant about sneaking up on people, but Buffy's eyes had already moved to the other side of the room, and her heart skipped a beat.

"Buffy," Angel's dead-pan greeting instantly told Buffy that he already knew of her situation. This was going to be difficult.

"What are you--" she began.

"'Angel Investigations - we help the hopeless'", Cordelia chimed in, her cheery tone oozing scarcasm, "And from what I've seen, you totally fit the bill."

"We're here to help." Angel reiterated, still flat and cold.

"More visions?" Buffy gave up and turned to Cordelia.

"Uh-huh, and I gotta say I'm surprised at you Buffy! People always said I would be the one who ran off with some guy and got knocked up, but no--"

"Cordy." Angel silenced her with a look, and thankfully she took the hint.

"Okay! Well, you two have plenty of seriously awkward catching up to do, so I'm gonna go look up my father. Seems he's got a little place on the hill, south-facing, very nice. Laters." She slid out of the kitchen and Buffy heard the click as the front door closed.

Buffy pulled up a stool and sat down at the counter with a heavy sigh. "Shall we go through the pleasantries or just get straight to the glaringly obvious?"

"I'm here to protect you, that's all."

"You're not going to ask--"

"Cordelia had a vision, which means you're in danger. Could be some vampire sect knows you're pregnant and wants to kill you while you're weakened, or demons who want to steal your kid, whatever. I'll be here to stop 'em. The Powers That Be don't send visions of things I might wanna go _ask_ about."

After all her repeated pleas for her friends to put a rein on their curiosity, she felt suddenly hurt that Angel showed no sign of caring how she came to be pregnant. Her mind flew back to that heartbreaking night in the sewer when he had told her she deserved to be with someone who could give her children. It was the very thing which shattered the most intense and devoted relationship she'd ever had. _His decision_, she reminded herself, _he left me_.

Like that mattered anymore. It was in the past, and right now it took all her willpower not to melt into his arms, to beat down the wall he'd thrown up to protect himself and her from further pain. He was acting like a jerk, but she couldn't blame him. So had she. She had stood in his office in LA a few months ago and ranted about how she had a new boyfriend, intending to hurt him, just a petty revenge. As sorry as she felt about that now, as much as she wanted to tell him that all should be forgiven and forgotten between them and beg him to hold her again, she firmly told herself she could not. Here, in this time, they were technically still on bad terms.

"Look, I've got to get some sleep. I've been up for… days." She moaned.

He nodded his agreement. "You're safe here for the moment. I'll go see if my old place is still habitable." Without another word he walked out.

Buffy dropped her head into her hands briefly and then heaved herself from the kitchen stool and wearily trudged up the stairs.

- - - - - - - - - -

**End Of Part One**


	2. Digs and Digging

**The Road Not Taken**

**Part Two – Digs and Digging**

The ruined mansion looked if possible even more ruined than Angel had last seen it. The gnarled and rotten doors had dropped off their hinges, the fall gales had blown half a ton of leaves and dead branches inside, and even the heavy dark curtains Angel had hung up to protect himself from the deadly sunlight had been eaten away by insects. He was lucky the sun had already set.

He stood by the desolate fireplace in the centre of what was once the place he considered his home, his grand hall. His mouldy old mattress still lay nearby, scene of so many tormented days spent fighting the ghosts of his past, and the bitter sweetness of sitting beside Buffy, laughing, talking, sharing comfort and closeness, but knowing that it could never be… more.

He couldn't take it. He had fled to LA, initially just to remove himself from temptation and pain. He told her he wanted her to find a mortal lover, a future as normal as a Slayer could get… but his mouth had burned as he said those words. Sure, they were noble, but entirely untrue. In the big bad city he had found a new reason to live, and it wasn't just to 'help the hopeless'. No, he clung to the hope that the Powers That Be would one day recognise his selfless devotion to the cause of Good and grant him his reward: that the prophecy of the Vampire with a Soul would come true, and he would be made human, mortal and able to return to Buffy, a whole man.

Angel stared out through the threadbare curtains at the stars peaking through. Somewhere out there, the Powers That Be looked down on him, a mocking smile on their ethereal faces. Curse them! They were too slow, or maybe they had never cared about the fate of their champion.

It didn't matter now, none of it. Clearly Buffy had found the man to give her a rosy future, a child…

His heart broke all over again at the thought of it, and rage swelled too. He went to a suit of armour and savagely attacked it, ripping its metal head off and cleaving its chest in two. He seized the sword it had been holding and began to hack at his mattress, sending white stuffing floating everywhere.

"If _this_ is your idea of cleaning up, remind me never to leave you in charge of the office."

Cordelia's voice drifted in from the ruined doorway.

"Cordy--" Angel growled, in no mood for her chirpy sarcasm, but the girl had no brakes on that mouth of hers.

"I'm just saying, is all, that you should probably consider not wrecking the joint if we're gonna be sticking around here for a while."

She wandered in, casting a disdainful eye over everything. "That said, you might consider upgrading a bit, these digs are sooo, last century. Why don't you find a nice sewer? I hear Sunnydale council has done a _lot_ of work on its sewer system…"

"CORDY!" Angel actually roared this time, causing her to swallow whatever comment she had coming next. She threw her hands up defensively, but stepped towards him, not away - calm and confident in the face of a furious vampire.

"Let's get out of this dungeon alright? It's too full of the past. At least your place in LA was verging on normal… Seriously I would consider this a definite step backward in your humanisation process."

"I am _not_ human!" Angel hissed with bitterness, never feeling that fact more keenly than right now.

"Oh yeah, I forgot," Cordelia countered with the full force of her habitual sarcasm, "You're _Angel_, the tortured demon whose impossible love will torment him for eternity! Have fun with that won't you. I'm gonna go hang out with the living." She Cordy huffed and turned her back melodramatically, stalking towards the door.

Angel glowered after her, stubbornly turning back to his shredded mattress with the sword.

* * *

Sometimes, Giles had to grudgingly admit to himself, books were just not enough. His personal library of ancient tomes of lore and musty volumes cataloguing every known demon had turned up nothing useful so far, which was hardly surprising given the ridiculously vague search criteria Buffy had provided.

She had made it very clear that she wasn't to be interrogated about her sudden and unexplained pregnancy, which infuriated the Watcher intensely, but what bothered him more was how _serious_ the Slayer was being about all of it.

If it was a straightforward case of her own stupidity, had she simply dallied with a man and gotten herself 'in trouble', she most likely would not have told him. The very fact that she had brought it up at all made him extremely concerned as to the greater danger she seemed certain was 'out there'.

Slamming the last of his crusty books closed, he rose from the little table, stretched and went over to the corned of the lounge. With a deep sigh he opened the laptop that was stationed there. A gift from the Scoobies on his last birthday, it was clearly a concerted effort by the youngsters to 'modernise' him. Willow had given him numerous lessons on using the internet for research, and though he would admit it was wondrous the way she quickly and simply pulled information from the machine, he had found the whole process unnerving and frankly too… convenient. It somehow offended his sense of diligence to replace the long hard graft of searching through books with simply typing a line into a search-box.

He had found one redeeming feature of the World Wide Web however. He had been amazed to discover just how many people there were in the world who knew about all things supernatural, mystical and demonic. The Watchers' Council would be shocked if they knew that the secrets of vampires and other dark creatures they guarded so jealously were discussed openly in online forums. Why, Giles had already read a fascinating article posted by the head of a coven in Chicago about the prophetic meanings of certain weather patterns.

It was this coven he wanted to seek out now. Buffy's challenge to pre-empt a demonic uprising with absolutely no solid information to go on could not be met alone. Despite being shockingly indiscreet when it came to the supernatural, had some pretty creative thoughts on omens and prophecies; maybe they could help him stop the end of the world.

He navigated his way to the section of the site which cheerfully invited him to 'Contact Us' and opened a new message box. He paused, the cursor blinking as he wondered what on earth he could possibly introduce himself to these people. He gulped at the absurdity of the situation and laboriously began to type.

"I am searching for portents and omens which may be leading up to a demonic event in the near future. I have been warned by a source I trust and need help to prevent an attack of indeterminate nature. Any texts or prophecies pertaining to this month and next would be gratefully received. Blessed Be."

As he read his message back to himself, the whole prospect of asking complete strangers to help _him_, an experienced Watcher, with this problem stabbed him with distaste_. Needs must…_ he thought, and hit 'Send'.

The laptop bleeped its reply not half an hour later, just as Giles was preparing to go down to the magic shop and pick up supplies for a diving ritual which might shed some light on the situation. He shrugged off his tweed jacket quickly and went to his inbox. There was no message, just a link to another website.

Open-mouthed, Giles stared as the site loaded. It was, quite simply, a searchable directory of what seemed to be every prophecy ever committed to paper by any author. In the book-list he recognised several titles he owned, many of which he had been sure his was the only copy, as well as the more mainstream stuff like Nostradamus, omens drawn from the Bible, the Koran and other religious texts.

He selected to search by date of prophesied event and entered today's date, July 7th, up until December 31st.

"Oh God." He sighed and put a hand to his forehead. There were 6,476 results. He shook his head in amazement as he read on, discovering an inordinate amount of predictions of great meteor storms and world-breaking geological events, as well as many foretellings of second coming of Christ, the rebirth of the Buddha, that sort of thing.

This was going to be a long job. He needed backup, he needed his research-team to spring into action, just as they had done during Buffy's three tumultuous years of High School.

He rose, stretched and went to the phone to call in his reinforcements. Naturally, Willow cheerfully volunteered for long hours of research, and arrived within 15 minutes, an unenthusiastic Xander in tow.

They set to work, quickly realising that finding demons and dangerous creatures beginning with 'A', as well as events of great import which were supposed to happen 'soon' was an exercise in futility.

Giles only hoped that the inexplicably expectant Slayer would be in a condition to fight when the evil finally reared its ugly head. As the recruits settled in for the long haul, Giles returned to his laptop and eyes the 6000 plus results with distaste.

Sighing he grabbed a pad and started to make notes.

**End of Part Two**


	3. Hell On Earth

**The Road Not Taken**

**Part Three – Hell on Earth**

Tired beyond belief, Buffy found her mind too swamped with emotion and information to relax. Sleep eluded her, and her mind wandered over the extraordinary events of the past—had it been four days? It felt like that to her, but she supposed it had only been an afternoon to everyone else. Just a sleepy afternoon in Sunnydale.

With the town bathed in sunshine adding to the beauty of the trees in their summer foliage, Buffy had decided to take a stroll in the park, relieved to have her first year of college out of the way. It had been a stressful year, even by Slayer standards, what with Riley turning vamp-addict and then leaving, Oz breaking Willow's heart and skipping town to go confront his inner wolf, and Spike's bizarre change of sides. _That_ was something she'd never anticipated; fighting side-by-side with someone she'd only ever wanted to dust.

And so she'd lolled on a bench, letting the year wash over her… letting time fade in and out. Maybe she'd dozed off, but the nightmare world she'd entered seemed alarmingly real…

* * *

A muffled cry jolted the Slayer awake. Her eyes snapped open, taking a second to adjust to the darkness… how long had she been asleep? She leaped to her feet, honing in on the sounds of a scuffle in the trees and dashing to the rescue.

"Midnight snack?" Buffy snapped, making the four vamps look up from their victims, their fangs dripping. The first was dust in an instant as it copped Buffy's thrown stake in the chest. The other three growled and advanced, their surprise turning to fury as their companion disintegrated.

It was a short scuffle. The vamps were completely talentless, hardly able to throw a punch. _These must've been new ones_, Buffy mused as she brushed the ash from her shirt. Vampires with any age had usually gained strength enough to put up a fight. Her smugness dissolved as she saw the bodies of what looked to be two teenagers, bloodless and dead. She had been too slow. Sadly she checked to make sure they wouldn't turn vamp themselves, before resolutely stalking into the woods, another stake at the ready.

She found and dusted another six vampires before hearing the town clock strike midnight. It shocked her that they were out and about so early, and in such numbers. She decided to head to Giles' and report the strangeness.

The main street was a mess. Litter, more litter than usual anyway, fluttered round the street like urban tumbleweed. Some shop windows were broken, their wares looted. Here and there a lamp-post bent at an odd angle out over the street. This was the kind of general vandalism she'd seen after New Year's Eve or maybe Halloween, when the more rowdy element of Sunnydale's youth went overboard in their drunken games, but it was an ordinary week in July, most of the student population were home for the summer, there were no holidays or special events were on as far as she knew.

She passed a recently burnt-out car, quietly smouldering, noticed more than a few boarded-up and vacated houses… The town was starting to feel decidedly _wrong_. She considered the possibility that this was one of her more vivid nightmares, even a prophetic dream of some kind, and pinched herself hard. No luck. She didn't wake up to her cosy bedroom and the smell of her mother's waffles. She stepped up her pace towards Giles' place, hoping that by the time she arrived, she would either have woken up, or he would appear to explain everything.

Her path took her through the cemetery, and she noticed fresh graves. Lots of them. That was weirder still, since there had been no casualties in town to her knowledge in months. Vamp activity had been at a minimum since the end of term.

She bent to examine one of the new graves, squinting to make out the text in the dark.

Benjamin Goreman

1987 – 2004

"Two-thousand and four? What the—" she murmured before the hand stabbed out of the fresh earth to seize her ankle. She quickly staked poor Ben the moment he was born to his new life.

"This is _really_ starting to wig me out!" She moaned at the cloudless night sky.

Scouting the other fresh graves confirmed the ridiculous suspicion that was forming in her mind. All the new graves were dated 2004. She took a moment, a deep breath. _Stay calm Buffy_, she told herself, _So, you're in the future… you've been through weirder than this before, though not by much._

Another two corpses animated themselves and had to be staked. She already didn't like this future… why so many vampires? Where were future-Buffy and the future-Scoobies? Her mind quickly shied away from the obvious answer…

Slowly, afraid of what she'd see, Buffy wound her way through the cemetery reading headstones.

_Oh God, no…_ she felt the tears well up and spill down her cheeks as she sank to her knees beside a stone which read, in flowing script:

Rupert Giles

1954-2001

You Watched over us in life

We know you are still watching in heaven.

It was as though a bulldozer was suddenly sitting on her chest, crushing her so that her breath came in ragged gasps. Giles… how had he died? Why hadn't she prevented it? She couldn't even conceive of a future without her Watcher – always nagging, always lecturing, but always caring, always fighting.

She let her tears fall unchecked on his grave, cursing this warped time and perverted version of the town she loved.

Forcing herself away, her blurry eyes looked around at the other headstones, wondering how many of her friends she had failed to save. Would she see Xander's grave next, Willow's?

Suddenly, her tears stopped dead. Her heaving stomach turned to ice. She saw the reason for Giles' death, for the apparent rise of the vampires, for the state of the town.

Buffy Summers

1981-2000

Beloved daughter and friend.

She saved the world, a lot.

Buffy managed a small smile at the last line, knowing it was probably Xander's idea.

She felt oddly sick, looking at her own grave. She'd seen it before in nightmares, but so far as she could tell, this was real. This was the future, although why or how her present self was visiting it was a mystery.

She considered hunting through the graves to see if the rest of the Scoobies were dead too, but that was just wallowing. Sternly she reminded herself that there had to be a reason she was seeing all this – some force had brought her here as a warning.

As she turned out of the cemetery, she heard a low growl behind her. Sighing, she reached into her jacket only to find that she had used up all her stakes. She turned quickly, launching a fist into the wooden gate of the cemetery and shattering it. A broken shaft of wood in hand, she took her stance, staring into the vamp's hungry yellow eyes.

Eyes which widened in recognition suddenly. "Slayer?" The creature gasped, confusion in its voice, "B-but you're…" the sharp plank drove into its chest, showering the Slayer in dust.

"Dead." Buffy finished coldly.

Gritting her teeth, she made a grim resolution that, as soon as she was able to get herself back to her own time, she would make certain that this hideous future would not come to pass. Of course, that required her knowing how she died, and finding a way to prevent it.

_At least there's one person who __must__ still be alive, _she thought, and headed to the bus station.

* * *

The smell of the grotty bus hung in her nostrils as she got off, sparing a glance for the driver: a haggard, nervous little man. Driving a bus at night, knowing what no longer lurked in the shadows but hunted openly in the dark streets, the poor guy must fear for his life.

Future-Los Angeles looked just as grim as future-Sunnydale, but then, it was fairly awful in her own time as well. Buffy remembered growing up in the city, loving the noise and the pace of it. In later years she found it disgusting; a dirty, dank haven for the creatures of the night who didn't dare stray into the Slayer's territory.

But there was one creature of the night she needed to find right now.

She fished in her jacket, hoping that her purse had somehow made it to future with her, and sure enough, it was there. Inside was a little business card with some bizarre stylized picture of a… bat or something. Ignoring the image, she looked to the bottom, to the address of Angel Investigations Ltd.

The office block that used to be there was simply a pile of rubble. She looked at the vacant site with dread, wondering what had caused such a catastrophe. Well, there was certainly no way Angel would still be living in his 'Bat-cave' below. In this messed up time, nothing was going to be easy, was it?

Where to look next? She would have thought that, with the increased level of demonic activity, Angel and his little 'team' would be working doubly hard to keep the streets safe for humanity. Surely they wouldn't have abandoned a world that needed them even more?

She returned to the street and, with a huff of annoyance, went to a public telephone and hefted the phone-directory-on-a-chain. Angel wasn't likely to be in there, but what about Cordelia or Wesley? Unluckily there were about three pages of Chases and not a single Wyndam-Price in the book.

"Argh!" She punched the already busted side of the phone booth, causing a cascade of business cards and adverts pertaining to the sex trade, as well as insurance, funeral services and even one flyer offering protection against monsters!

_Wait! That sounds familiar…_ Buffy seized the flyer.

Scared of the dark? You should be.

But we can help.

If you have a problem of a supernatural nature

If you are feeling hunted

Call Wes&Gunn Protective Services on 555-SAVEME

Buffy surmised that Angel must have had a falling out with his former partners, or else… God forbid, maybe he had reverted to Angelus again. She shook her head firmly, didn't even want to imagine that possibility. She took the flyer and headed off towards the address along the bottom.

It was in a nice part of town, or at least, a part of town that had been pretty up-market when she lived in L.A. It still looked alright, on the surface, although Buffy wondered how frequently the pricey apartments had changed hands due to the deaths of their owners. There were a number of For Sale signs in windows. She located the address on the flyer and stood at the front door, wondering what to say, she raised her hand to knock when suddenly she was flung to the ground, struggling with the entangling net fired from a little tube hidden in a shrub. As she writhed on the ground snapping the metal meshing bit by bit, she noticed a CCTV camera mounted above the door.

The door swung open and a man wearing a motorcycle helmet and body-armour leaped nimbly from the apartment, bearing a crossbow. Buffy noticed that he also had on a metal collar, presumably to protect his neck from vamps. It was obvious she'd come to the right place. The man advanced warily, aiming his bow at her chest.

"Wesley, stop!" Buffy yelled, and the figure paused. "It's me, Buffy!" she pressed, still snapping bits of wire.

"Ha!" Wesley cried, his voice muffled by the helmet, "You can't trick me, demon! The Slayer has been dead for years." He took aim again and fired, but Buffy wrenched a hand free of the net just in time to catch the bolt a centimetre from her chest. Wesley reached for another bolt as she leaped to her feet and shook the net free.

He aimed for a second time just as Buffy seized the end of his crossbow and wrenched it out of his hands. Wesley expertly whipped out a rune-engraved dagger from his sleeve and settled into a fighting stance.

"Come on then, foul creature! You'll find _this_ human isn't such an easy meal— aarrghh! Owww!"

Like lightning Buffy had dodged around behind and pulled his arm up his back to breaking point. "Look," she said calmly through his squeals, "I don't really care if you think I'm a demon, or a vampire or whatever. I just need to find Angel and sort out this mess. Now are you gonna stop trying to kill me for a few minutes?"

"Yes, yes!" Wesley screeched, moaning as she released his arm and stepped inside the apartment.

"You… you went in without an invitation!" Wesley whined, cradling his arm against his chest as he followed her in and shut the door firmly.

Buffy stood in the living room of what could have been a very swanky pad, were it not festooned with weaponry all over the walls, bookcases groaning under the weight of hundreds of musty tomes of demon lore, and a map of the city's sewer system spread out on the table.

She watched as he secured his door with six deadbolts, then a metal crossbar covered in odd symbols, onto which he quickly sprinkled Holy Water. He removed his helmet and collar, then, and Buffy could not help but let out a small gasp at the scars which criss-crossed his face and neck. Again she felt a blow of guilt that he had had to suffer for the lack of a Slayer.

He turned to her, his arms folded and drew himself up smartly, his chin raised in defiance.

"So you're not a vampire, but that doesn't I'm fool enough to fall for your illusion. You're not who you say you are. That's quite impossible!"

"No, it's quite _unusual_." Buffy corrected, "But if you want another demonstration…" she reached for his arm again.

"_No_! No, that's quite alright!" He shrieked, jumping back against the door. Buffy smiled fondly, feeling that at last she'd found someone she knew alive in this wrecked future.

"Now _that_ sounds like the Wesley I remember… I still can't believe the Watcher's Council ever thought you could control me and Faith." Wesley's eyes widened a little as she went on.

"Here's the deal: I _am_ Buffy. And I know how cliché this sounds, but I'm from the past. Your past, not mine. In my time, everyone's alive: me, Giles, Willow, Xander, everyone."

"Willow and Xander? I hadn't heard _they_ died…"

"Oh, they haven't?! Well great! I didn't know that, I was just assuming that since this future is so messed up practically everyone was… y'know. Anyway, before you ask, I don't know _how_ I'm here, but I can guess the _why_ – to stop all this," she waved a hand around to indicate everything in general, "From happening. I'm guessing that me dying must've caused the world to go to crap, huh?"

It was Wesley's turn to smile at the Slayer's innate arrogance, even though she was mostly right. "That was part of it, of course." He moved carefully past her and went to the kitchenette to set the kettle boiling. "Err, tea?"

"Thanks," Buffy nodded, still in awe of the British need to drink tea in every situation. Thought reminded her of Giles, and a new bought of grief hit her stomach briefly.

"So, what happened to the world? What evil sucker finally got me?"

"You, ah, died, defending the world from a great menace, as indeed most Slayers throughout the ages did before you."

Wesley went over to a bookcase and withdrew a large leather-bound volume. He placed it on the coffee-table and opened it to a page bookmarked with a red ribbon. Buffy sat on the sofa and looked at the terrifying illustration on the page. It looked like the most hideous thing she could imagine, all sharp spines and fangs, but with eyes that burned with malevolent intelligence…

"The demon Arrachar," Wesley announced theatrically, "And what you see here is only one of his forms, for he could transform at will. I later found a prophecy in the works of the scribe Cathar of Persia that stated his true destiny – to rule over all the evil that exists and create a Hell human kind could only imagine."

"I guess he made good on his threat then." Buffy noted.

"Oh no, not at all! You killed him Buffy. He just… killed you too." Wesley's usually high-pitched voice dropped to a low, grave tone, his eyes saddened with the memory. "We were all there: your friends, Giles, myself, Angel, Cordelia… she saw the demon's coming in one of her visions. We had a foolproof plan. We managed to lure the demon into a vault, and locked you inside with it. We were to defend the vault against his minions. We held our ground as the horde assailed us, and when they drew back, we opened the vault. Arrachar lay headless in one corner, but you were broken and torn in the other. Giles even begged Angel to make you a vampire, so that at least you would live on, but it was too late. You… you were gone." Wesley voice was a half-sob as he looked away, hiding the threatening tears.

Buffy said nothing as he recovered himself and stood straight again. "Arrachar was destroyed, but at such a price… the lack of a Slayer made the vampires bold. The demon's most trusted aide set himself up as a kind of vampire lord and promised his kind free run of our world. The demons, the vampires, and all the humans despicable enough to co-operate with them have preyed openly on people since then. It's been nearly four years… I try to help where I can, but lately I seem to be losing more than winning."

"What about Angel? Couldn't he handle the vamps?"

"Ah. No, he… errr…" Wesley backed away slightly. Buffy's insides cramped with fear for the words she was about to hear. _He's dead…._

"He left." Wesley said, and there was a bitter tone to his words.

"Left? You mean, he's still alive?"

"Maybe. He was certainly _alive_ last time I saw him."

Buffy stood up, confusion turning to annoyance now. "Wesley, make sense!"

Again, infuriatingly, Wesley turned to a bookcase and pulled down a scroll this time. As he began to unfurl it, he asked, "Did you ever hear of the Shanshu Prophecy?" Buffy shook her head as the scroll joined the other bits of paper on the table. It was pointless trying to read it, as the obscure characters were obviously some ancient or demonic language.

"It was the shred of hope Angel clung to, his lifeline. Back when I first arrived and joined up with him and Cordelia, he was living in a black hole of despair. Of course, I knew how you and he had… split up."

Buffy gulped, she didn't want to remember _that_ right now. There was only so much emotional turmoil she could take.

"But then we discovered this scroll, and although it took a long time to translate, it seemed to suggest that the Vampire with a Soul would be a force for good, and play a key part in the Apocalypse, saving the world of humankind. After which, he would be rewarded with a new life. A mortal life."

Buffy gasped. Angel, mortal? Suddenly she could imagine how hard he must have fought for this, what it would mean to him… to _them_… She was never in any doubt that his leaving was not because he didn't love her. Just the opposite. He loved her too much, as she did him, and they could both see how their passion would only have caused mayhem. They could not risk returning Angelus to the world again.

Angel had spilled plenty of self-sacrificing rubbish about how she should choose another man to make her happy and grow old with her, but she could never really want that. She doubted that a Slayer would ever be able to make a good match among ordinary people. She was just too powerful, too tied to her calling. How could anyone ever understand her the way Angel had? Their connection was quite simply immortal.

"Ahem," Wesley's tactful cough pulled Buffy out of her heated thoughts and she nodded for him to continue. "Well, Angel had averted so many disasters of apocalyptic proportions he was sort of hoping that the transformation would happen fairly soon, but every great evil he vanquished brought him no closer to humanity… until…"

"Arrachar?"

"It was about a month after your funeral. He had refused to come out of his room for weeks. Cordelia was suffering more and more with the visions, since there were so many more vampires and so many more people in danger. But Angel didn't care."

Wesley's tone had resumed its bitter, angry tone. "He gave up on us, on the world. He said the demons could have what was left, since there was no longer any meaning in it for him."

Buffy imagined how much that must have hurt Wes and Cordy, to be told that they didn't matter. It was more selfish and unfeeling than she thought Angel capable of, but then, she remembered what she had done when he died, when she killed him. She had given up on the world, too, retreated into her pain and deserted her mom and her friends, leaving them to fight the evil alone.

"One morning," Wesley went on, "We heard a scream like I had never heard before coming from Angel's office. We rushed in to find him unconscious, but his heart was beating. When he revived and realised that the Prophecy had come to fulfilment _then_, of all times, he went crazy. Cordelia and I had to run for our lives as he started destroying everything. By the time we dared go back he was gone. That was the last we saw of him."

"So, Angel's human," just saying it sent a shock of amazement through her, "But you have no idea where he is?"

"He could be dead. You know his temperament. It wouldn't surprise me at all if he simply killed himself."

Wesley's bleak assessment made Buffy cold with dread. He was right. She remembered having to talk him down off a rooftop at sunrise, but now that he was human, and in such a state of despair, it would be all the more easy for him.

"I don't know what kind of a welcome he'll get in the hereafter," Wesley's tone was one of disdain now, "Since he proved himself a coward and renounced his mission to serve Good--" Buffy whirled, fired with anger and urgency. She grabbed the skinny ex-Watcher by the collar.

"You _will_ help me find him!"

Wesley was clearly about to make some self-righteous refusal, but his words melted at the fire in the Slayer's eyes. He nodded silently and she released him.

Straightening his jacket and loosening his collar with a pointed look at Buffy, he went to his phone book, flipped to a number and dialled, explaining, "There was a priest, Father Connaught, living not far from the Hyperion. Angel used to visit him before he... changed. They were very close; I think Angel was doing as much pre-mortality repentance as possible. He might have an idea where Angel went."

"Huh, Angel a Catholic. Well, I guess he was Irish once."

"Oh, yes, is that Our Lady of the Assumption? I'm looking for Father Connaught. Oh, I see. Yes, that seems to be happening more and more. No phone, hmm. Just the address then, thankyou." Wesley hung up and handed Buffy the slip of paper he'd written on.

"Try there. I'd come with you, but…"

"But you don't care whether Angel is alive or dead. Got it." Buffy finished coldly.

"I would, if he would actually start helping out. You don't know what it's been like Buffy. For Angel to leave us… then Cordelia—"

"What happened? Is she…?"

"She was most hurt by Angel's behaviour. She'd grown… very fond of him."

Buffy saw a flash of pain in his eyes before he blinked it away and remembered how Wesley had felt for the bitchy fashion-princess-turned-prophet. She had always assumed they would get together, but if Cordy's feelings for Angel had deepened… Wesley would never forgive him.

"Where did she go?" Buffy asked quietly.

"The visions became too severe for her to cope with. She near lost her mind before I took her to the Sanctuary. It's a very peaceful place in Connecticut, a little offshoot of the Watchers Council who became autonomous a few years ago. She needed to get away from the horrors of L.A. I visit her when I can. Sometimes she even recognises me."

His sad smile at that nearly brought Buffy to tears. She stepped up to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I _will_ change it. I promise. I'll change it all." He met her eyes, and for a second she saw the hope that shone there. He hugged her briefly, then stepped back and picked up his biker helmet.

"Well, yes, best of luck, Buffy. I must be off. The night awaits, and there's plenty of work for a rogue demon hunter such as myself."

The Slayer would have laughed at the absurdity of it, but for the fact that, without her in the world, he pretty much _was_ the line between Good and Evil. With a nod of encouragement, she headed back out into the dark, hoping that poor Wes would survive the night.

**End of Part Three**

**Authors Note**

Because this story deals with several time periods, I just want to explain the timescale.

THE PRESENT – July 2000 (based on the air-date of Buffy Season 4/Angel Season 1, in the summer break after college)

THE FUTURE – July 2004, nearly four years after Buffy, in this AU story, died.


End file.
